


Tequila Regrets

by rosymamacita



Series: Here We Are Now Entertain Us [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Restaurant, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 15:48:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8897980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosymamacita/pseuds/rosymamacita
Summary: Clarke and Bellamy have been roommates for a while, and Clarke has been in love with him for almost as long, but when she finds out that his terror of a boss has marked him as her next conquest, Clarke offers to pose as his fake girlfriend for the staff Christmas party to scare her off.She did not think this all the way through. Happy Holidays!





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [feminist14er](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feminist14er/gifts).



Clarke Griffin was stretched out on the couch, fluffy socks, sweats and Buffy on the tv, a twirled forkful of spaghetti on its way to her mouth when her roommate came banging in the door and collapsed next to her, sighing loudly.

“Fuck,” Bellamy groaned.

Clarke hurried to swallow her spaghetti so she could ask. “What happened?” she leaned closer, worried.

His head fell back on the couch and he closed his eyes. She let herself gaze at his strong jaw, the muscles in his neck, and his collarbone peeping out from under his open shirt. She was only allowed this when he wasn’t looking. “I fucking hate my fucking boss, Clarke.” 

She sighed in relief. She thought for a minute it was something serious. She already knew his boss was a bitch. “You need to quit that job, Bellamy. You can find something better. Something where they don’t treat you like shit.”

He rolled his head on the couch and looked at her. “You always say that, but it’s easy for you. You’ve got a nice cushy job with benefits and a contract and human resources departments. You’re like a real person. I’m working in the alternate reality of the restaurant industry, where every restaurant owner thinks they are the dictator of their own little fiefdom. Nia is the overlord. I am nothing but a serf. And she wants me to sleep with her.”

Clarke sat up straight at that. “She what?”

“Oh yeah. She’s got it in her head that I am meant for her. I mean, she’s a fine looking woman, but no thank you. I don’t want any part of that crazy. I can hold her off for the regular shifts, and if a little flirting makes it so I’m finally fucking getting decent bar shifts, then I mean, can you blame me? I need that money and I’m making bank. Finally. I worked my balls off for this shift. I’m good at what I do. I’m bringing in a solid clientele on my regular shifts, right?”

“Jesus, Bellamy,” Clarke couldn’t really deal with this without some alcohol. The wave of possessiveness that went through her when he told her someone wanted to sleep with him was irrational. He was her roommate and that was all. And that was all it had been for the year and a half she had been in love with him. She had gotten used to it. She couldn’t sit still. She stood up, handing him her bowl of spaghetti. He didn’t even seem to notice that she was bothered. He just picked up her fork and started eating.

She grabbed a couple of beers out of the fridge, pausing for a moment to press the cold bottle up against her forehead. “Jesus,” she muttered to the cheese and leftovers. Then she stood up and closed the door. 

“I mean, I need that job.”

Clarke opened the beers and held one out to him.

“You could tell your job to shove it if you had to, Clarke. You’ve got months of savings. Don’t lie. I know you do. How many months could you go without needing a new job.”

She shrugged and sat back down next to him. He didn’t give her dinner back. “I dunno. Six or seven before I started to get nervous, but for real, maybe a year.”

He gestured his beer at her. “See? Yeah, that’s the difference between you and me. Your mom paid for college and spotted you the first year you were on your own, so you could hold out for the right job and get some savings going. Me? I’ve just been working getting my sister through college, and then working some more to pay for my own classes. What I managed to save from the extra bar tending shifts, I just spent on my new semester. The cupboard is bare.”

“Bellamy, you should quit. I’ll pay the rent until you find a better job.” He was just about the best, hardest working person she’d ever met, and she couldn’t bear to see him always give and give and never get. She’d been the one to convince him to finally apply to Hunter College for his bachelors degree, so he could be a teacher like he wanted. And now he was finally going, and he still thought he was dependent on this awful boss and this awful job. “I don’t mind.”

He looked at her then, and his face was full of so much…kindness? Like she was some sort of angel or perfect specimen of virtue. Whatever it was, it broke her heart, because it wasn’t the way she wanted him to be looking at her. But that’s what she was for him. The good girl who always did right. The princess who he had to protect.

“Clarke honey, I’d never ask you to do that for me. I need to figure out a way to get through this, maybe look around a bit, get my savings up again before I make any rash decisions. Right now, what do I have? I have nothing.”

Clarke took a deep swallow of her beer, holding herself back from telling him he had her. If he wanted her. Instead she just sunk down into the corner of the sofa and watched him rant. 

“I’ve got to figure out a way to just hold her off. Avoid her. That’s all. Once I reject her, man, everyone warned me. She can get vindictive. Hey, Clarke, this is really good. Did you make this?” He pointed at the bowl of spaghetti. 

“Yes, Bellamy. I made my own dinner.”

His eyes bulged in realization, mid chew. “Oh shit. I took your dinner.” He shoved the bowl back in her hands. “I’m so sorry. I just wasn’t thinking. I was just trying to figure out my Nia problem. Jesus. I’m such a selfish dick.”

Clarke had to laugh. He was the least selfish person she knew. But he did sometimes have a one track mind, focused solely on solving a problem. “You’re good. I left you some spaghetti on the stove, anyway. You just weren’t paying attention.”

“And then I ate your dinner. I’m a monster.” He put his beer down on the coffee table and then jumped up, bending over her and sliding his fingers through her hair so he could press a kiss to her forehead. “I don’t deserve you.” 

He turned away before he could see her duck her head to squeeze back the tears. He was killing her. Why did he have to be so sweet to her? Sweeter than he was to anyone else, even his own sister. Everyone had commented upon it, the way he was a dick to everyone in the whole city, except for her. But he’d bring all sorts of girls home, after his late nights. Always respectful of her. Warning her when he was inviting someone over, asking if it was okay. And of course she said it was okay. He was her roommate and her best friend and she wanted him to be happy. Only it wasn’t okay because she wanted to be the one he was taking into his room, with the soulful music turned up, and staying with all night behind closed doors. 

He went to the stove and got himself a huge plate. “This is more like it,” he said. “I was going to say something before about how that bowl wasn’t enough food for a hamster.” He looked up and his eyebrows drew together. “You don’t eat enough.”

“I eat plenty,” she said, and took a mouthful just to show him. He came over and dropped a mound of extra spaghetti back in her bowl before sitting next to her, hunching over his plate and shoveling the spaghetti into his face. She jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow.

“Manners, Bellamy. Were you raised in a barn?”

He put his plate down, sighed dramatically and leaned heavily against her, his head falling onto her shoulder. “I’m sorry, princess. I’m eating my feelings.”

Clarke put her bowl down and let her fingers run through his dark curls. She loved his hair, and he pressed back against her hand like a cat asking to be petted. “What changed? You’ve hated her for a good six months. You call her a predator. What happened that brought all these spaghetti eating feelings on?” Her voice was far too tender for her liking. She tilted the beer back and took a long swallow.

He sighed again. “It’s our staff Christmas party on monday. Murphy’s warned me that she’s marked me as her conquest that night. She’s decided that it’s been too long, and she’s convinced I’m single, so I need to get laid. By her. Why did I ever break up with Gina? She’s got this girl code thing going on where she never poaches another woman’s man. I mean, whatever, what kind of medieval nonsense are we talking but at least it kept her off my back. Murphy’s the one that told her Gina and I broke up. And now I have to deal with a whole party with boss lady sniffing around me. ”

Clarke swallowed. This was all wrong. She held up her fingers to count off. “Uhm, first of all, quit. Secondly no one gets to ‘decide’ that you are getting laid but you. Third, you didn’t break up with Gina, she broke up with you and I have no idea why she did that, but it it was weeks ago. And fourth. What the hell? You have a christmas party on Monday? Who has Christmas parties on Monday and five, excuse you, why wasn’t I invited?”

Was it wrong that it was the last part that bothered her the most?

He rolled his eyes and held up his own fingers to count back on her. “One, no because I’m not rich like you. Two, tell that to Nia. Third, I’m not talking about it. Fourth, because Monday is the night the restaurant is closed and no one wants to give up making money to have a work party, and Five, dammit, because you work, Clarke. And you have to get up too early to begin with. And I’m not going to foist my problems onto you. You’re too good for these fools who are just going to get fucked up on tequila and grope each other because they have no life goals. Tequila regrets are the fine tradition of our staff parties, and I’m not going to subject you to that.”

She had been ready to argue back at him, play that game they did of dueling words, but instead she could feel the blood fill her face. It was instant. Her anger and she wasn’t sure where it came from, but all her witty arguments fell right out of her head.

“Fuck you, Bellamy. I’m an adult and if I want to get fucked up on tequila and be groped, I will. What is it you think I’m made of? Glass? Give me a fucking break. No. Take me to that party and I will tell that predatory woman to keep her sexually harassing paws off of you or I’ll take that to my mom and her friends in the justice department. See what kind of fiefdom she runs when the real law gets involved.” She found herself standing and pacing in their small living room.

“Shit, Clarke, I’m sorry.” He stood, too. His face worried. “I didn’t mean to make you angry. Come with me to the party. I mean, you want to be groped?” He looked intensely uncomfortable with the thought. His jaw did that thing it did when he was holding back his words.

“You think I can’t let loose and have fun. Say it Bellamy. Whatever you’re freaking out over.” 

He glared at her, pressed his lips together tightly and then twisted his neck like he was getting ready for a fight. “Don’t tell my boss that shit. If there’s anything worse than being fired, it’s having your boss make your life a living hell so that you quit instead. At least now she likes me. Don’t make her think I’m out to get her, please.”

“I’m not going to let her hit on you Bellamy. Knowing you, you’ll just, like, take it, because you feel like you deserve it or something for some stupid bar shift. No. You’ll probably get totally shit faced to deal with her and then feel like you have to receive her attentions.” She felt the blood burn in her face at the very thought. “I’m not going to let that happen.”

His eyebrows shot up and he grinned. “Receive her attentions? You gonna defend my honor like I was your man or something?”

She pushed at his broad chest and he fell back into his seat on the couch. “You’re damn right I am.”

He gaped up at her. “What?”

Clarke gasped and covered her mouth. He wasn’t her man to defend. But he was, dammit. He was her best friend and she wouldn’t let some woman force her attentions on him. She planted her feet and glared at Bellamy, pointing at him. “You said it. Girl code. You’re going to take me to your party, not as your roommate or some lame princess who’s too pure to hang out drinking tequila with the cool kids. I’m going as your girlfriend. And screw your boss, I’m going to piss all over you and mark you as mine.”

His face was dark with some strong emotion and he just stared up at her as she realized what she’d just said.

“God, Bellamy. I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that I would make it clear to your boss that you were taken and not free to be preyed upon. Fuck. She’s treating you like a play thing, and if having a fake girlfriend makes her back off, then, dammit! Bellamy, use me.”

He swallowed and stared. “Use you.”

“Let me get in the way. She can hate me, okay? You stay sweet and flirt with her. You can stay on her good side and keep your shifts and maybe she can hold out hope that you’ll dump me and go for her some day.”

He snorted and muttered, “like that would happen,” and she almost asked him what that meant but instead, he looked up at her. “So you’re saying you want to come with me to my work party. As my girlfriend. To protect me from my evil boss.”

“I’ll take a sick day on Tuesday, so you don’t even have to worry about me staying out too late, okay worry wart?”

He laughed. “God, princess. You are the fucking best.” He surged up and wrapped his arms around her waist, picking her up in a giant hug, spinning her around so she almost knocked their beers off the coffee table. She slapped at his arms until he put her down, and she retreated to her room, flushed, her heart beating too fast.

What the hell had she gotten herself into.

***

Hell.

She had gotten herself into hell. And hell was made of ice.

She stood outside of the restaurant, unable to move, her long coat wrapped around her as the December chill rose up through the cement to freeze her, right to the spot.

She should be walking in the door on Bellamy’s arm, his “official” girlfriend, there to support him and stick to his side every moment. Instead, when she’d come home from buying the drop-dead-gorgeous girlfriend dress she promised Bellamy she’d wear, she was met with an empty apartment and a note stuck to the fridge.

THE OVERLORD CALLED ME IN  
TO HELP SET UP THE RESTAURANT FOR THE PARTY.  
MEET ME AT THE RESTAURANT AT 8 O’CLOCK.  
NO LATER.  
YOURS, BELLAMY.

He’d felt he had to go. Of course he did. Now he was alone in the restaurant with Nia, And she couldn’t be there. She couldn’t protect him or stop her. But she could tell he was nervous about facing her alone. She had to be there. For him. Because he needed her and this she could do.

She could do it. So why couldn’t she go in the door? It was 8:08 and she had been standing here for ten minutes. She could see the party was already going inside. But she couldn’t see Bellamy.

“Hey, Clarke, what are you doing here?”

Raven came up behind her. She sighed in relief. An ally. Clarke and Raven had gone to college together, and she had actually worked at the restaurant first. She was the one who’d introduced Clarke and Bellamy, who suggested Bellamy move in with Clarke when she needed a roommate and he needed a new place. 

“I, uh, Bellamy invited me.”

Raven laughed. “Well, d’uh. I mean why are you standing out here in the cold instead of going in?”

Clarke swallowed. It was the moment of truth. Her job as fake girlfriend began now. “It’s, uhm, my first party as Bellamy’s official new girlfriend.”

“Mm. Yes. Well.” Raven was rarely at a loss for words.

“You know.” Clarke grabbed Raven’s elbow and moved in close. “You know I’m pretending.”

Raven smiled and it was positively feral. “Murphy called me. I wasn’t coming to this party, but he said Nia was on the prowl after your man, and I had to come watch.”

“You know he’s not my man,” Clarke sighed, quietly, full of frustration.

Raven’s eyes gleamed. “I know you love him. And I know you’d do anything for him. And I’ll tell you a secret.” She leaned in. “He loves you, too.”

A fine trembling went through her. “Not like that, though.” The cold was settling into her bones. Her teeth were chattering.

Raven nodded slowly. “Okay. You look like you’re freezing. Maybe you should go in now and find your boyfriend.”

“Right.” Clarke repeated. “My boyfriend.” Her teeth were definitely chattering. “I guess I can’t leave him in there with that shark, right?”

Raven’s grin came back. “You want me to walk in with you?”

Clarke blinked at her, the cold bringing tear to her eyes. “Would you?”

“Absolutely— hey— don’t let those tears ruin your makeup. You look great. He won’t know what hit him.”

“It’s for his boss, that’s all.” 

“Sure. Let’s go in.”

She wiped her eyes carefully and followed Raven into the restaurant. The noise was immediate and the heat was like a wall. For some reason, it was better than outside, with her head wrapped up in her bad thoughts. The party was more crowded than she thought it would be at only 8 o’clock, and the music blared. Maybe Bellamy hadn’t been left alone with Nia after all.

“Hey Reyes!” Raven and Clarke both turned to look at the bar. John Murphy sat on a stool. “I saved you a front row seat. Woah— and Griffin. Excellent timing.” He held up three fingers to the bartender before turning to them. “What do you ladies want to drink?”

“Margarita rocks, no salt,” Raven said, sliding into the stool Murphy had saved for her. 

“Same,” Clarke said, knowing she was going to need a little something to tame her jitters. She was still shaking with nerves. Cold. Nerves. Whatever.

“Excellent,” Murphy said. “So we’re going with the time honored Tequila Regrets.” The bartender placed three shot glasses on the bar and Murphy placed the margarita order.

“Of course,” Raven said, “It’s tradition.” And the bartender lined up the drinks. 

Murphy handed the shot glasses out, along with the limes and salt and they knocked it back. Clarke grimaced at the burn, but it was good. It definitely started a warming in her belly, which she needed. She exhaled deeply, looking around, trying to find Bellamy.

“He’s at the other end of the bar, Griffin,” Murphy said with a smug look. Clarke shot him a dirty glance. He knew the game that was afoot. He was the one who’d told Bellamy that Nia was after him. And he’d told Raven to come watch. But he’d also plied her with tequila and was handing her a margarita as he smarmed at her. She might be able to let it all slide. The margarita was awfully tasty.

And then she caught sight of Bellamy, at the end of the bar dressed up in a black button down. His boss, a tall, regal looking middle aged woman was unbuttoning Bellamy’s third button and laughing delightedly. Bellamy was stiff, a flat smile plastered on his face. Clarke honestly could see nothing else but Nia’s manicured fingers touching Bellamy’s chest.

“Clarke!” 

Clarke shook her head and looked back at Raven, realizing she’d been trying to get her attention for a while now. “What?” she snapped.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt your death glare. Just asked if you wanted me to take your coat so you can go deal with that. I’ll hang it up in the staff room.”

“Oh, yeah,” Clarke said, distracted. Watching Bellamy trying to get distance from Nia, but she’d kind of pinned him up by the drink machine. She pulled off the coat, feeling overheated actually, and handed it to Raven.

“Holy fucking shit!” Murphy shouted. 

Clarke looked at him sharply. He was staring, wide eyed. Raven held onto his arm as if she was about to fall out of her seat. “Are you kidding me with that dress?”

Clarke blinked and looked down at herself. It was mostly a vast expanse of cleavage covered by thin black satin. She’d forgotten what had been causing part of her nervous attack outside of the bar. The thought of actually revealing the sexy outfit she’d chosen to chase off Bellamy’s boss, and maybe make him fall in love with her at the same time. She breathed out and turned so they could see the mostly bare back held in place by criss crossing spaghetti straps all the way down to the curve of her ass. “Too much?”

“Hell no,” Murphy choked out. “If Bellamy wouldn’t literally kill me dead, I’d take you home with me.”

Raven punched Murphy in the arm and then covered her own mouth. “Oh my god, Clarke. You are the best. Oh my god. Thank you for calling me, Murph. Thank who ever made that dress. Is that new? I’ve never seen you— yes dear god. Bellamy is going to die. Nia is going to die. I feel like this is the high point of my life. No wonder you were so cold outside. Are you even wearing anything under that dress? Holy shit. I’m straight, and I want to do you.”

“So you think it will work?”

They looked at each other. Then at her with gleaming eyes. “Yes,” Raven said. 

Murphy just laughed. “Go get him, Griffin.”

She looked at the end of the bar and Nia had Bellamy backed up against the wooden bar and was petting his biceps. The muscle in his jaw leapt.

Clarke didn’t even say good bye to Raven and Murphy. She pushed her way through the crowd and she was suddenly there. 

“Hey Bell,” she said, her voice low and throaty because she wanted to rip Nia’s throat out.

“Clarke!” he exclaimed and the relief in his voice was clear, before he took in what she was wearing and his jaw dropped.

“I’ve been looking for you,” she said, not sparing a glance at the glowering blonde woman who’d stepped back from Bellamy when she’d come up. Instead, Clarke reached up and threaded her fingers through his hair before pulling him down for a kiss. 

He showed no hesitation. His hands coming to her hips and pulling her close immediately. His lips opening under her tongue. It was just the tequila that had her lips tingling. It was the heat from the restaurant that made it so hard to breathe.

Nia cleared her throat.

They pulled back but Bellamy kept his hands on her hips, his thumbs gently stroking the satin. His eyes roved over her face. She couldn’t help the smile.

“Uh, sorry. Nia, this is Clarke Griffin. You’ve met haven’t you?”

“Your roommate,” she said, almost offended. “We’ve met.”

Bellamy smiled at her. “My girlfriend.” Clarke had known what the game was. It was her idea, and yet, when he called her his girlfriend, she still felt her heart turn over. She took a sip of her margarita. Something cool was necessary. The tequila was just an added bonus.

“Well that was pretty quick. You just broke up with Gina.” Nia made a sour face. “I liked Gina. Were you cheating on her?”

Clarke felt him tense. She slid her arm around his waist and tucked herself under his arm. “Bellamy would never.” She said, offended for him. “We didn’t happen until they’d broken up.”

“Hmm,” Nia said. “I wonder if Gina would say the same thing.”

Bellamy shrugged. “Go ahead and ask her. She’ll tell you that she broke up with me and told me to be with Clarke.” He took the drink out of Clarke’s hand without looking at her. “Because I was in love with her.” 

Nia narrowed her eyes and looked at him, like she was catching him in a lie. “Don’t think I won’t ask. She’s coming later. I talked to her.”

“Good. I’ll be glad to see her again. It’s been a while.” He drank half of Clarke’s drink. Clarke blinked at him.

“Hmph,” Nia said, and gave Clarke a once over. Clarke smiled and stood so that her cleavage was on display. “Well, then good seeing you again, enjoy the party,” she said and retreated into the crowd. 

“Jesus Clarke,” he said and pulled her against his side, pressing a kiss against her temple. “I’m so glad to see you.” She felt his breath against her hairline. “It was getting really hard to put her off.” He took another drink from her glass. “Tequila? Clarke?”

“It’s traditional, right? Tequila and groping?” Clarke was trying to keep it light. Make the jokes.

Bellamy laughed. So she must have succeeded. “Who are you going to grope?”

“My boyfriend,” she said. And she was feeling decidedly un light. 

She watched his throat muscles contract as he swallowed. “Yeah, I guess so. She’s still watching us. I think she doesn’t believe us. I’d better get me some of that tequila myself. And look, I drank all yours. I gotta stop taking your stuff.”

“I don’t mind,” she said.

He turned to the bar and called the bartender over. “Shots or margaritas, Clarke?” She blinked at him. “Good call,” he answered although she didn’t say a thing. “Both.”

By the time they had their drinks, Clarke was certain Nia was watching them from the corner. Could she see her nerves? Could she tell that they never stood like this? Touched like this? But Nia had touched him in ways she didn’t like. And he’d said that thing about why he’d broken up with Gina, and maybe it was just part of his story, but those words kept reverberating in her head, and the image of Nia with her manicured fingers on Bellamy’s chest kept playing in front of her eyes.

Bellamy handed her the shot. He couldn’t really meet her in the eye. But he was having a hard time not staring a fair bit south of her eyes and it emboldened her. She reached out with her rather un-manicured hand and ran a finger from his collar bone to the last button that Nia had not managed to open. “I said I wasn’t going to let her do that to you, Bellamy. I said I was going to mark you as mine.”

His chest rose under her fingers as he drew in a breath sharply. He was looking at her now, and his eyes were dark, and serious. “You said you were going to piss all over me.”

She shook her head. Her hair fell into her eyes and she didn’t bother to push it back, just looked up at him through it. “I’m going to lick you though. Right there,” she tapped her finger over his heart. “Where she touched you. I’m going to do a body shot off of you. Think she’ll get the message?”

He laughed then. “Jesus, Clarke are you drunk?”

“Not yet.” She reached for the salt shaker and pulled his shirt aside. His smooth skin was warm and soft, and she licked her lips in anticipation. She stopped, though, and looked up at him. She raised her eyebrows in a question and he his eyes were swimmingly dark, his lips parted. 

“Yeah,” he whispered.

She smiled and licked his skin right above his heart. He tasted like salt and sweat and the way he made her feel when he had his arm wrapped around her watching scary movies late at night. She pulled back and salted his skin so the granules stuck before she looked at him again. He just grinned and took her lime slice from her. 

“Bottoms up,” he said, and put the lime between his lips. It made her smile. It made her feel bold. She laughed and then tossed the shot back, licked the salt off of his chest, and took the lime from his mouth, not letting herself think about it any more. He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her thoroughly and chased her mouth when she pulled away laughing, trying to get rid of the rind.

He let her pull back but not very far, his big hand wrapping all the way around her wrist. “My turn, right?” She nodded and picked up the salt shaker. “Anywhere?” he asked. And she nodded again, feeling a fluttering low in her stomach. He raised her arm to his mouth, and Clarke found herself disappointed. He was going to do a body shot off her wrist. All this cleavage and he was going for her wrist. 

But he didn’t lick her wrist. He kissed it. Her mouth fell open. And then he kissed the crook of her elbow, smiling at her shyly. He quirked his eyebrow asking if it was okay and god she had no words to speak. She nodded silently and he slid his big hand up her arm to her shoulder, brushing the hair back from it as he bent down to kiss her shoulder, too. Her head fell to the side, giving him access to her neck, but he just stroked her neck and combed her hair with his fingers so it fell down her back. 

She had to swallow before she could get the words out but she needed to be sure. “Are you drunk?”

A smile ghosted on his face. “No,” he said, standing directly in front of her. Then he bent his head to the swell of her breast above her low cut dress and licked her there. Her heart was racing. She brought her hands up to tangle in his hair. She felt him lick her again and her fingers clutched at him. He pulled back and salted her, avoiding her eyes.

“Bellamy?” she asked, worried.

“This is…” he said, his voice shaky, “this dress, touching you like this… this is a lot.”

“Is it too much?”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, Clarke. It’s tradition. Tequila and bad decisions.” He downed his shot, and she put the lime wedge between her lips for him to take, but when he went back to her cleavage, he stayed there, licking and kissing the soft skin of her breast, nibbling softly.

“Fuck” she gasped, and held on to his broad shoulders because her legs could barely support her anymore.

He pulled up and looked her in the eye. “Yeah?” he asked, his pupils blown, then came down on her mouth, paying almost no attention to the lime wedge before taking it out of her mouth with his teeth and tossing it away, so he could kiss her for real. 

And it was real. He had her pressed up against the bar, his hands exploring the bare skin of her back and his tongue telling stories against hers.

“Bellamy,” she gasped. “Bellamy, wait.” The words puffed against his cheek as he kissed down her neck.

“What is it?” His voice was so husky it did things to her. But she had to focus.

“I need to know, before the tequila hits us worse than it already has. Before we really are drunk…” he nodded. “What you told Nia, about why Gina broke up with you, is that true?”

He closed his eyes and raked his hands through his hair. “Because she didn’t want to date a man who was in love with another woman? Yeah. Listen. I know this was all a bad idea. Pre—“ he broke off and leaned into her so no one could hear. “Pretending that you were my girlfriend, I knew it was a mistake. But I wanted to, just for tonight. I didn’t know you were going to be wearing this dress. Or you would be so…” he laughed. Bitterly. “We’ll do this whatever way you want. Keep faking or just get out of here and stop pretending. Whatever you want Clarke. I never wanted to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not a princess, Bellamy. Sometimes I want to make bad decisions. And I’m not even sure this is a bad decision. You love me?” She couldn’t believe it.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. Look, I know how to put it away. I won’t make you feel awkward, you can pretend it’s just the tequila talking.”

She laughed, then, hardly believing what he was telling her. He winced and pulled away. But she wouldn’t let him go. She twisted her fingers in his shirt and drew him back in. “I don’t want to fake it anymore,” she whispered into his ear. He grunted softly, as if she had hit him. And she suddenly knew. He had no idea how she felt about him. How was it possible? Everyone else saw it. Everyone else knew. She had been certain that he knew she was hopelessly head over heels for him and he was just feeling sorry for her, treating her like some gentle princess who needed to be kept safe from the reality of his rejection. 

“Okay.” He nodded. “I’ll get you out of here. This party sucks anyway, right? I’m sure you did your job. Nia’s got the idea.”

Clarke glanced over at his boss, still eyeing them, but her arm wrapped around a tall drink of water, who looked a lot more receptive than Bellamy had. 

“Fuck Nia,” Clarke said and turned Bellamy so he couldn’t see her anymore. Neither could she, hidden as she was behind Bellamy. 

“No thanks,” he said flatly, the sarcasm his quick defense mechanism. His lips curved in a smile that looked more self mocking than actually happy. 

“How about me?” she offered, sliding her palm up his chest, feeling the muscles that she had so longed to caress, to kiss. She curled her hand around the back of his neck, feeling the curls at his nape, wanting him, wanting everything. “Fuck me?”

Bellamy dropped his head and he put his hands to her hips again but this time to hold her off. “Don’t do this to me. You’re not… I’m not…. Dammit Clarke. I don’t want to be your tequila regret. This is why I didn’t invite you to this party in the first place. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to resist you, and that was before you showed up looking like this.”

She stepped into him. “Why do you think I bought this dress, Bellamy? I thought if I could make you see me as more than a princess, as someone desirable… I thought if I could touch you like I was allowed, like a girlfriend, then maybe you would fall in love with me the way I was in love with you.”

“What?” he looked up at her.

“I don’t want to be your fake girlfriend, Bellamy. I want to be your real girlfriend. I didn’t think you saw me that way. You’ve always been so careful around me. I’ve seen how you are with the girls you pick up. You’re so easy and teasing and you touch them they way I always wanted you to touch me. But you didn’t.”

He flexed his fingers into her hips and shifted her closer to him. “You weren’t ever like that to me. A hookup. I wouldn’t have…”

Clarke leaned in. “You should have.”

“I should have, “ he repeated.

“We could have…” but Clarke didn’t even know how she was going to finish that sentence because Bellamy was kissing her, his hands cradling her face, her arms coming up around his waist. And she believed it now. He loved her. She slipped her hands under his shirt and trailed her fingernails up his spine.

“This is real, Clarke,” he said. She reached up and brushed his hair back, smiling.

“I’ve been in love with you for so long, Bellamy, I kind of got used to it. To longing for something I couldn’t have.”

“No, Clarke,” he said so sadly. Then he laughed. “Me too. I just about lost it when you started dating Lexa.”

She scoffed. “You didn’t look like it. You were with a different girl every night…oh.” It suddenly made sense. “That long ago?”

“I didn’t realize it at the time, but yeah. I was jealous.”

“When I came in here tonight and saw Nia all over you, I almost saw red.”

He smiled, delighted. “So you had to mark me?”

She was still embarrassed. These feelings were still new. Being allowed to have them was new. “Yes,” she muttered. “You’re mine.”

He took a deep breath. “I’m yours,” he said and pressed the softest kiss to her mouth. “So do you want to go home?”

“We haven’t finished our drinks,” she said.

“I don’t need any more tequila regrets, do you?” 

She felt her face broke out into a smile. “I have no regrets.”


End file.
